


Moonlight Sonata

by HelenaKey



Category: Constantine (2005)
Genre: Ambiguous Slash, Body Horror, Demon Summoning, Exorcisms, Fallen Angels, Film Noir, Implied Relationships, Inspired by Music, Multi, Murder Mystery, Post-Movie(s), Slow Build, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8358523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenaKey/pseuds/HelenaKey
Summary: The worst thing about John's profession was, probably, that he never got to chose when he went out to exercise it. Calls would come in, and he would answer to them. That was it. There was no schedule, and no days off. He didn’t have insurance, or retirement; and more often than not the pay was irregular. Sometimes he found himself wondering why he was still in the exorcism business.





	

The call came late at night.

John had been drowsing into sleep on the armchair of his living room, thoughtfully nursing a glass of old whiskey. When he first heard the sound of the phone coming from across the room he had jerked in his seat, startled. He looked around, trying to figure out what had woke him up. When he heard it again, he grunted - low and vicious, like a wounded beast. He felt tempted to let it ring, but he knew better than to ignore a phone call at those hours of the night. He was a suspicious man, and only a very reduced circle of people had the information required to contact him. If one of them was calling, the odds said that it was something important.

Outside, it was raining. The night was pitch black, and only a few lampposts were lit across the street. He stood up from the armchair slowly, putting his whiskey aside. His eyes felt heavy, and when he stretched his legs they made a strange, popping noise.  He had been out all day, settling some scores in Papa Midnite’s old nightclub. His knuckles were bruised, and his shoulders felt sore.

When he picked up the phone, Angela Dodson was on the other line.

“It’s one in the morning, Angela. What do you want?” He asked, feeling his throat raw - his thoughts, disperse. He wasn’t fully awake yet.

At the beginning, he didn’t understood what she was saying. She was talking very fast, but her voice was low; like a whisper or a faint humming. John asked her to start again, feeling a headache forming between his eyebrows. He wondered if it was because of the late hours, or if it was just the whiskey.

“Something’s come up, okay? I think I need your help.”

“My help with what?” He asked, frowning.

“An ejection.” She said, sounding only slightly doubtful. John closed his eyes; feeling frustration rising up his chest. 

The worst thing about his profession was, probably, that he never got to chose when he went out to exercise it. Calls would come in, and he would answer to them. That was it. There was no schedule, and no days off. He didn’t have insurance, or retirement; and more often than not the pay was irregular. Sometimes John even wondered why he was still in the exorcism business.

“Where are you?”

“In Chinatown, close to the Division Street. There are police officers with me. They don’t know what’s going on.” She answered. John nodded, extending his arm to grab a notepad and a pencil from the table before him. He quickly wrote down the direction, along with Angela’s name and the required payment. He liked to have things in writing.

“Well, keep it that way. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” He said. Noise came from the other line, and for a moment he couldn’t hear anything. Then Angela’s voice came back; this time as an unclear shout in the background. It sounded like she was discussing with someone. Perhaps a fellow police officer. She was breathless when she spoke again; as if she had been running. John wondered if she was calling from a cell phone.

“Alright. Thank you.” She said, just before hanging up. John stared at the phone for a few seconds, frowning. A man shouldn’t have to live like this, he thought. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d have a quiet, uneventful night off.

A few minutes later, he was getting into his car. He had bought it recently. It was big and spacious, but simple enough to not call unwanted attention. The seats were lined with leather; just in case he got called in for a messy job. He checked the barrel of his gun before starting the engineer. Inside he got the glimpse of six small, silver plated bullets. He put it beneath the waistband of his pants, and gripped the steering wheel.

As much as he hated to admit it, John did like his job. It was a part of him. A vocation, so to speak. Not the kind of thing you can get rid of from one day to the next. He had feelings for Angela back in the day, so he guessed that had something to do with his decision, too. There was no remedy. He had already said yes. Backing off now would be unprofessional.

 

* * *

 

He was about halfway to his destination when he noticed. A lesser man would have felt scared; and maybe, he would have been right in being so. But John Constantine was anything but an ordinary man, and he knew how to keep his composure even in the most frightful situations. 

“I thought you half breeds were supposed to be busy people?” He said, never taking his eyes off the road. “How come you always find the time to show up and ruin my day?” John’s voice was light, but it was far from friendly. He was, perhaps, annoyed by the sudden apparition. Gabriel, as always, didn’t let his apathy take the best of him. Instead of being offended by his impertinence, he smiled at it; almost fondly.

“You know I’m a sentimental, John. There’s nothing I hate more than loosing track of my friends.” He said. Even through the rearview, John could catch the delight in his expression.

“Let’s not kid ourselves, Gabriel. It’s quite clear by now that you and I are not friends.” He took a tighter grip on the steering wheel; making the car turnaround to take the freeway entrance. Suddenly, the lights illuminating the road grew in number and became brighter. For a moment, they swept over his face; clearing up his tired features. There were dark circles under his eyes.

“Oh, John… still as fickle as always, aren’t you?” Gabriel had the gall of sounding disappointed as he said that. As much as he wanted to, John refused to give him a comeback. Far from feeling dejected, he knew that the wicked thing would take pleasure form it. “And here I thought we had patched things over…”

When he caught sight of the big, green painted sign that said that he had reached his destination, John began to look around the streets; searching for Angela. It was late at night, and there weren’t many people in the streets. The rain hadn’t stopped. The windows of his car were crossed by clear, transparent drops of water, and every time they passed over a puddle, they got stained with mud.

“Who are you working for this time?” Gabriel asked, leaning against the back of his seat. “I can’t imagine your friend Midnite putting his hands into the fire for you, after what happened with Balthazar.”

“Who says I’m working for anyone?” This time, John sent his passenger a wary glance. There was suspicion shining in his small, brown eyes. Now that Gabriel had lost his all-seeing gaze, spying on him was nowhere near as easy for him as it used to be. Still, he was not taking any chances. One could never know, when it came to half breeds.

“You came out of your apartment at two in the morning with a loaded gun and a canteen full of holy water. I was making guesses.” Gabriel said, smiling.

John kept driving, refusing to fall into his game. He parked the car in front of an old storehouse. It was covered with a red metal door, and there were strange, intelligible Chinese graffiti’s all over it. He felt for the gun in his waistband and wrapped his raincoat tighter around himself. Before he could make it out of the vehicle, Gabriel’s voice stopped him.

“Angela was the one who called, wasn’t she?” He asked, and John had to clench his teeth to keep himself from grunting. He lifted his eyes to glance at the rearview again, and felt something cold sinking in his stomach. There was something about the way that Gabriel was looking at him that he didn’t like. “I should have known. You have that dreamy look on your face…” He said, slightly tiding his head.

John chose that moment to step out of the car.

He shivered when the rain started to fall over him. The sidewalk was flooded with water and as soon as he stepped over it he felt his socks getting wet. Far away, if he narrowed his eyes, he could make out the figure of three police patrols. There were people moving around them - indistinct silhouettes shifting in the dark. John realized that the people Angela had been shouting at during their phone conversation were probably other detectives.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a door being closed. When he turned around Gabriel was already out of the car, quietly walking towards him.

“Look, I have to go to work, alright?” He said, once he had the half breed standing before him. He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound that threatening. It just came out that way. “So if you’re not going to help me, get the fuck out of here _._ ” Gabriel didn’t move a single muscle. He didn’t said anything, either. He just looked up at him with unblinking clear eyes, as if waiting to see what John would do next. For a moment, they just stared at each other; engaged, perhaps, in a secret challenge.

In the end, John was the one who lost it. He found himself lowering his eyes, looking down at the mud staining his old black boots. There was water dripping from the bridge of his nose. He swept it off and turned around to leave; walking towards the gathering of patrols a few meters away. Gabriel didn’t follow him.

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take him long to spot Angela in the crowd. She was talking to a senior police officer, right behind the perimeter line, and she seemed agitated. Her hair was tousled and unkempt, and she wore disheveled clothes. John stayed for a while on his side of the line, waiting for her to glance at his way.

The patrols were parked in front of an old Chinese restaurant. By the looks of it John guessed that it was very old; from the 60s or maybe the 70s. The entrance was still illuminated by neon signs, and the façade of the building looked dilapidated and filthy. The streets around it were full of detectives and police officers. John was used to dealing with the forces of the law and even thought it annoyed him, he was not worried about their presence. The lack of a forensic team, however, was troubling. It meant that whatever was going on inside the tatty little place before him wasn’t over yet.

“So, what’s going on?” He would ask Angela a few minutes later, leaning against a black, rusted lamppost behind him and lighting a cigarette.

“The neighbors heard a riot inside the restaurant and called the police. It seems that there are seven hostages, but we haven’t made contact with any of the kidnappers yet.” She said, not looking at him but at the crime scene before them. Her arms were crossed above her breast, and her eyes were narrowed. She was involved, he realized. Solving this case was important to her, for some reason. He had to wonder why. She was a professional (maybe not in exorcism, but definitely when it came to police work) and she knew better than to become passionate about a case that would probably end in tragedy. He was sure of that.

Perhaps, it was because of Isabel. Everything that was even remotely related to his profession reminded Angela of her sister, and that was troubling sometimes. It was one of the main reasons why, despite recognizing her abilities in her respective field, John refused to work with her as his assistant. It was too dangerous to have someone so compromised in the field.

“How do you know you need an ejection? Did you saw something?” He asked, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. The smoke came out in a spur, floating around him like a bank of mist.

“Me and my team got inside before the backup arrived…” She said, looking down at the cracked sidewalk. Her right hand was caressing her left shoulder, in an almost absent gesture. “None of them could see them, but I…” She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t need to. John understood what she meant.

“Is there any way to get inside besides front door?” He asked, getting away from the lamppost and closer to the building, so he could get a better look.

“You can enter through the kitchen door. I can take you, if you want.”

John slowly shook his head, not even stopping to consider it. He had already lost an assistant earlier that year, and he was not ready to repeat the experience.

“No, you stay here.” He told her, giving the girl a meaningful look. “I don’t need to remind you what happened the last time I took you with me.” That seemed to startle her, for some reason. She actually recoiled from him, as if she had been physically struck. John couldn’t blame her.

If his memories of the encounter they’d have with Balthazar a few months ago were bad, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how hers were. At least, his experience with the supernatural allowed John to understand what was happening, bizarre as it was. For her, a girl who lacked both experience and knowledge when it came to the other side, everything had probably been just a terrible nightmare. An absurd dream.

She quickly explained him how to reach the kitchen door, and with a goodbye and a nod at her way, John took a hold of his handgun and started to walk towards the restaurant. He had the feeling it was going to be a long night.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the first time I venture into a long dead fandom and I can assure you it won't be the last, guys ;) I've always thought that there was a lot of chemistry between Constantine and Gabriel and a few weeks ago, after watching the movie again, I realized that I just had to write something about them :) 
> 
> I don't know if anyone would actually read this, but if someone does and they like it, please leave feedback! It would totally make my day!


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